Endless Space
by nolan85
Summary: Eons past, The Endless colonized and settled across the galaxy before mysteriously vanishing. Their legacy, nanocomputers called Dust, is the only clue to their fate. Now, the civilizations of the galaxy are locked in a bitter struggle to unlock the secrets of Dust, that is if they do not destroy themselves and each other through war.
1. The Duke

Writers Note: The context of this story is based on the creative works of Amplitude Studios. All creative work herein is not owned by me other than several original characters. It is not my intent to profit in any way by sharing these stories, rather it is to spread awareness of an amazing game created by aforementioned game studio in hopes that some who read this will go on to play this amazing game. Please enjoy my take on Endless Space.

**The Duke**

* * *

Aarold's eyes followed the little girl as she danced and giggled across his desk to the backdrop of screens of streamed data concerning his company's latest project. "Watch me, daddy. Watch me." begged the blond blue eyed girl as she danced across the desk. The office was dark, the great window behind the desk was shuttered closed, the only light coming from the screens and the holo.

Although Aaorld smiled his dark eyes were filled with sadness as the mini-holo of his daughter danced across his desk.  
With a sigh, Aaorld forced his gaze back on the data screens. N-Way's profit projections were up a staggering 300% with the completion of two more fusion reactors in the Sirius star system and the discovery of rich hexaferrum deposits on Sirius Prime's second moon, not to mention the successful colonization of Anstiga.

"Watch me, daddy. Watch me." Aaorld's eyes wandered from the screen to find his daughter.

"Five years ago, I would have been the happiest man in the Empire. Dusts, has it already been five years?" Aarold thought to himself. His finger traced the outline of the holo. Her eyes so full of life as she danced across the desk, the eyes of her mother. Aarold reflected on how his wife's eyes were now dull and vacant since Jeanie died.

It had been three years since he last seen his wife, Ediem. He left her on Amosa, the bustling capital system of the Empire, she chose to drown in grief, while he decided he would rather dedicate the rest of his life to his daughter's memory. Even if that meant betraying everything he once stood for.

A clear sharp feminine voice of his AI broke his thoughts.  
"Pardon my interruption, Duke Au Brian. An Envoy class ship designated H.R.M.S. 1108 has just entered Sirius Prime orbit and commencing docking procedure's to the facility."

An Imperial ambassador ship. Damn. "Why was I not informed when this ship entered the star system?" demanded Aaorld.  
"Apologies, my lord. H.R.M.S. 1108 was using active photon distortion technology when entering the system."  
Surprise inspection. Damn. "Have the ambassador brought up to my office at once."  
"Yes, my lord"

Aaorld swallowed hard and took a deep breath. He typed some commands into his command console, bringing up a wealth of data onto his screen. The walls of his office lit up as diagrams and statistics were projected across the walls. His plan was to bore the envoy to death with data and charts and a thorough tour of the facility. As far as the Imperial court was concerned he was doing a good job. Better than good. Scientific output has quadrupled since he came here after... her accident. In fact Aaorld was sure that there were those in the court that saw Jeanie's death as advantageous as it lead to the great success for N-Way's recent five year profits. One girl was dead... but the dust never stopped flowing.

Forcing steady hands, Aarold produced a flask of dustwater and took a swig. "Endless give me strength, wisdom and the serenity to weather this coming storm."

After several minutes that felt like an eternity, the elevator at the far end of the office lit up, warning him of the approaching envoy. Aarold stood up and walked to the front of his desk his eyes watching the elevator door as it slid open, revealing only darkness on the other side.

"Duke Aarold Au Brian of Amos, Governor of Sirius, President and CEO of N-Way Corporation, Steward to his Eminence, Emperor Maximillion Zelevas ." said Aarold's AI. "Presenting envoy to his Eminence, High Chancellor to the United Empire, Governor of Amos, Lord Heres Adrift"

Out of the dark of the elevator, a hulking mass began to take shape. Lowering itself and turning sideways the near twelve foot high, five hundred pound figure entered the office of the duke. Heres Adrift, craver, monster, pet to the emperor stood before Aaorld, fifteen feet away. His obsidian armour shone grimly by the light of the projectors, His face hidden behind an admantian mask, black with a silent breathing apparatus and a single eye shining a dull red.

"M-My Lord Heres" swallowed Aarold. "What an unexpected surprise. I was expecting a mere Envoy. The Emperor has done me a great honour by sending you." The craver said nothing. There was a mechanical whirring from inside his mask, then a holo of Emperor Maxamillion Zelevas himself appeared before Heres. Aarold instantly dropped to his knees. This was no mere inspection. This was much more.

The Emperors kindly eyes looked down upon Aarold and he laughed merrily. "Stand up Aarold. Do you know how ridiculous you look kneeling in front of a hologram" boomed Zelevas. Aarold obeyed. Zelevas golden eyes pondered over Aarold as he smiled a friendly smile. "Dusts, its good to see you again Aarold. I do apologize for sending Heres here, but as you know I can't very well be flying around the empire with all these terrorists about, so I figure this is the next best thing, having made Heres my high chancellor and all that."

The Emperor had a way of seeming more a friendly uncle than an emperor to his subordinates. A useful ruse in any ruler but Aarold wasn't fooled. The Emperor knows. He has to. Why else would he send him? But how? "You honour me, your Eminence."  
Zelevas waved a dismissive hand and regarded Aarold with warm eyes. "How is Edie?"

"She is well, your eminence. It has been hard these past few years, but she is brave."

"I know." Said Zelevas. "I miss Jeanie terribly. I wish you and Edie took my advice and made another clone."

"It was good advice, your Highness, but there is no replacing Jeanie."

"Indeed. Poor, Edie." His golden eyes began to darken. " Aarold, all of my efforts to find these terrorists have been for naught. I am surrounded by fools and miss your wise counsel terribly. How would you deal with these self professed pilgrims? How would you bring these terrorists to justice?" There was a curious glint in his golden eyes.

Aarold raised his chin confidently. "I would scour Rigel for clues to where there their fleet fled. N-Way is days away from uncovering non-baryonic shielding. With this ability to manipulate matter we can create ships of the like that have never before been seen in the galaxy and set a new fleet on their trail. With a modest amount of dust appropriated to my facility I could have those cowards found and quartered within the decade."

Zelevas mouth cut into a smile. "A cunning plan...give you dust, power and a fleet." The Emperors' sinister laugh echoed throughout the office. "You are a cunning man, Au Brian." Aarold did not see Heres' tentacles close in around him. They snapped around his waist like a whip, squeezing him with abominable strength. Aarold screamed, his fists pounded uselessly on the slimy arm that wrapped around his waist like a snake,

The loving uncle was gone from Zelevas, his true self was present. His eyes blazed with madness and his mouth was twisted in rage. "Where is the Errant fleet?! "

"Watch me, daddy. Watch me." said a sweet voice behind Aarold.

"Where have the Pilgrims fled?! Where is Ziecheal?!" raged the Emperor.

"Daddy, watch me!"

It was no use denying it. He had been giving secrets to the Pilgrims. The Emperor knew and Aarold will die. "I don't know! They didn't tell me anything." Aarold coughed up blood as Heres squeezed tighter. "They don't trust me, only used... secure channels."

He would be dead soon. Aarold knew it would be so. He would join the Endless. Become one with dust. Maybe the old ways had it right. Perhaps he would be reunited with his sweet Jeanie or there would be nothing. Only blackness. He had to look at Jeanie one last time. Aarold strained his head to try and view Jeanie's holo. Heres snapped him across the face with a tentacle, holding his face to the emperor.  
"They will trust you... oh they will" laughed the emperor.

Aarold screamed.


	2. The Missionary

**The Missionary**

* * *

Therna slid out of bed, the soft linen bed sheets wrapped lazily around her body as she stared through the port window of the cabin, scanning the ships floating serenely in formation. From the bed Gero admired her naked shoulder as it peeked through the folds of the blanket. She had aged beautifully while Gero was in cryo sleep. Her hair shone with silver, matching the luminous Endless glyph tattoos that marked her body, her eyes still kept their vibrant blue flecked with gold. though he detected sadness in them.

Since waking from his cryo chamber six hours ago, he has spent every moment with Therna, lost in each other's arms. Only now, both of them exhausted, do the countless questions of the events of the past ten years beckon to Gero's mind.  
"I can't believe it's been ten years," he said awkwardly, looking for a way to approach one of his many questions. Therna only continued watching the beauty of the ships, their undertow humming with a magnificent blue of their Sophos designed drive cores.

Gero sighed as he smoothed his damp salt speckled auburn hair back from his face. "What news of Rigel?"

"Lost," Therna said finally, not breaking her trance from the port hole.

The Errant Fleet left 1.2 million souls back on the Rigel star system, tasked with the grave mission of waging a guerrilla war against Imperial forces with the hope of buying time for the Errant Fleet to settle a new world. Gero had no illusions of the fate that awaited the Rigel remnants, but he had hoped for another ten years of keeping the Empire busy.

"What do you mean lost?" Gero hated when Therna was so cryptic.

Therna turned her head toward Gero, lying naked on the bed. "All will be revealed at Ziecheal's council."

Gero rose from the bed, slipping on underclothes from a compartment in the cabin wall. "Everything that old man promised has gone awry."

"Ziecheal promised nothing"  
One hundred years ago Ziecheal led his colony in rebellion from the United Empire, denouncing their god of commerce and rejecting their vain, commercial way of life. Emperor Maximillion Zelevas did not take kindly to Ziecheal's sedition and has led an aggressive war for his extermination ever since. Though Therna had great confidence in Ziecheal's ability to lead, Gero was not so certain.

"He promised the Endless," countered Gero

"Have faith, Gero," said Therna, finally turning from the window "Our war is not lost, not yet." Her beautiful blue eyes gleamed of determination, and a secret.

Gero couldn't help but smile. "You have something up your sleeve."

Therna smiled and let the blanket fall to the floor. "Sleeve? I see no sleeves."

Gero stepped toward her. "It's another six hours before the counsel," Gero reached for her waist but she slipped away playfully into the cabin washroom. He watched her step into the shower. "I suppose we must prepare for the summit," he said and joined her in the shower.

Hours later, the leaders of the Errant Fleet convened in Ziecheal's briefing chamber. Ziecheal is a large man with dark skin and black hair tied back into dreadlocks. White glyph tattoos stretch up from his neck to the side of his grim face. He sits at the head of a large table, around him are scientists, engineers and military leaders, the best minds in the fleet, a dozen in all. To Ziecheal's left sits Chidi Bademdi, admiral of Ziecheal's military arm of the fleet. His ability to keep cool under pressure after countless battles with Imperial fleets earned him the nickname Iceberg. To the right of Ziecheal sits Lrhanmha Amirmoez, a Sophon scientist, tall beside Ziecheal, making him appear small by comparison. Gero takes his seat beside Therna at the far end of the table.

"Welcome, brothers and sisters," begins Ziecheal in his deep, resolute voice. "Ten years ago we set out from Rigel, ahead of the Imperial invaders. Finally we have arrived at our destination…"

"Which is where?" Interrupted Gero.

"The star system of Xenophros," replied Ziecheal as he types commands in his chair side console. A holo at the center of the table whirrs to life. A projection of a planet lit up. A green planet with a great ocean separating two large continents. "A jungle planet , out of the reach of the Empire. Given the events of our exodus from Rigel, I know you will all forgive the secrecy," Ziecheal turns toward Lrhanmha and nods.  
Lrhanmha's purple eyes visible through a visor of her green helmet, regarded the room warmly. "My friends," she says. "Welcome to Xenophros, Sophon's gift to you. Her long slender fingers type rapidly into her console, the holo zoomes out from the planet to the surrounding constellations, revealing the location of Xenophros in relation to Rigel, the former Pilgrim capital system on the border of United Empire space, Xenophros is on the other side of the galaxy. An overwhelming feeling of loss creeps through Geros. So far from home.

"Why bring us here, brother Ziecheal, to the fringe of the galaxy?" Asks Gero.

Ziecheal does not answer. Instead Lrhan types commands zooming the holo back on Xenphros, past its yellow and blue suns, through its rich carbon atmosphere, skimming along its diverse jungles to reveal a dark ruined city on the planets surface, choked by the jungle foliage. "This brothers and sisters," said the Sophon, "is an Endless ruin."

There was a collective gasp of excitement from the table, except for Iceberg, who showed no emotion. The room is abuzz with simultaneous conversations of the possibilities of such a find. To Gero, it seems to good to be true. "Are we to believe that the Sophons are giving us this planet for the charity of the Esthetes, Sister Lrhan?" Asks Gero after the chatter softened.

Ziecheal and Lrhanmha exchange looks. It is Ziecheal that speaks this time. "I have given the Sophon Council the endless pre-schism artifacts."

The excitement in the room transforms into disbelief and doubt from all but Iceberg, who continues to show no emotion. Even Therna speaks her dismay. Ziecheal let them all voice there shock and even anger until finally he raises both hands above his head and his voice booms over them all. "I am sorry my brothers and sisters, let us keep these artifacts. We shall gather them all, encase them in glass and display them to the masses as a monument to the glory of the Pilgrims. Perhaps we can sell tickets." For years the artifacts had sat under heavy guard, neglected as all their secrets had long since been yielded to Pilgrim researchers. All agreed that there was no more to learn from them, but still the thought of losing the ancient tablets weighs heavy on them all. "If any of you still cling to such petty urges of vanity, then I dare say you made a mistake leaving the Empire." His point is well received and shame silences the room.

The rest of the counsel was concerned with the events of the past ten years, while 12 million Pilgrims slept in cryo and Admiral Therna Ubantri led a fleet to harass the UE, hitting military targets and jumping from system to system, managing to stay ahead of UE police forces and Ministry of Security with the help of a dubious informant high up in the UE hierarchy. Hours were spent debating whether this agent could be trusted. Therna's insurances seemed to be enough for Ziecheal, not to mention the informants latest cache of schematics for a dreadnought battleship.

Finally Ziecheal ordered Gero to command a frontier mission twelve kilometers from the deserted city of the Endless. He would land a Missionary Vessel, clearing away a vast jungle and begin a survey for valuable resources and pave the way for the Errant Fleet to commence the colonization of Xenphros. As the youngest member of the counsel, Gero always gets the worst jobs.

"I hereby name you Missionary of the Errant Fleet," decreed Ziecheal at the close of the summit, "and charge you with sacred trust of ensuring the faith on Xenophros."

"May the spirits of the Endless grant you strength," said Admiral Bademdi, cold as ice.

"May they grant you wisdom," added Lhranmha Amirmoez.

"And may they grant you the Serenity to find Them," concluded Ziecheal.

With that Gero began preparing his ship, overseeing inspections and drills, loading, and repairs. Therna wished him luck with a kiss goodbye, Admiral Bademdi told him to keep his guard up and Lrhan bored him with Sophon proverbs about diligence or some such nonsense.

Twenty-four hours after the summit a Missionary class vessel departs from the Errant Fleet and enters low orbit over Xenophros, their new home. His ship hovers over the banks of a vast ocean, surveying the land below. Gero was ordering the release of their probe units when lights and alarms on the bridge of his ship went haywire.

"Incoming bogies! Counting five, closing fast!" Screams a pimpled youth at the survey terminal.  
Gero had time to blink in disbelief as the bogies impacted the hull of the ship. The shock throws Gero from his command console to the lower level of the bridge.

"Report!" he yells as he rises to his feet.

"Fires on decks 5 through 12, engines unresponsive, we're falling fast. Captain" someone says.

"Hull breach on decks 10 and 11, heavy casualties!" Cries another.  
Gero runs to his command console and sends a distress call to the Errant Fleet then orders the evacuation. He carries the pimply youth to the evac site, knocked unconscious from the impact. Letting the medical officer care for him in an escape pod and presses the release switch himself, watching as the pod bursts out to the crimson sky outside.

After ensuring that the entire bridge crew was safely away, Gero climbed into his personal pod, and strapped himself in. He was about to hit the release when the Missionary crashed into the ocean. His teeth rattled, the walls of his pod groaned in distress. Geros thanked the Endless that he was strapped in when the ship hit the water.

Geros entered commands on his console and closed his eyes to brace for launch from his dying ship. Nothing happened. He opened his eyes, and typed the commands again to the same result. Outside his pod the ocean had risen above him. Deep blue water stretched out infinitely into blackness.

In the abyss a light appeared, growing brighter as it grew larger, coming closer. Within seconds the light grew into a creature, shapeless, emitting a strange light. Beautiful yet terrifying. The creature pressed itself against the view port of his pod, the bright white light filling the pod as Gero stared in helpless awe. A crack emerged across the port. Water began to trickle into the pod, pooling on the floor around his feet.  
A strange thought snuck into Gero head and he laughed. "I was going to pick some flowers for Therna."

The port shattered, the cold water hit Gero like a wall. Something wrapped around his leg and pulled him through, somehow freeing him from his straps. Down, and down the thing pulled him, now emitting a menacing red light. The deep abyss weighed heavy on Gero, pressing him from all sides. He could feel his head splitting from the pressure. He wanted to scream. He opened his mouth and swallowed water. He tried to cough, but only swallowed more of the cold, cold water. He was drowning,

Darkness took him. In the end he felt warm and was enveloped by a soothing blue light.

Death isn't so bad, he thought.


	3. The Vain God

**The Vain God**

* * *

It was easy to see how a culture as self obsessed and decadent as the United Empire could breed such a person as Horatio. Every man and woman of importance on Amosa was completely concerned with status, sacrificing everything for the latest fashion, the newest gadget, the most modern rejuvenation therapy. Horatio had seen them lose their homes because they could not keep up with paying off their latest surgery. One hundred and fifty year olds rejuved to look twenty. He supposed they did make for attractive homeless, though.

Horatio studied himself in a hand mirror as he sat behind a marble desk, flanked by sparked statues of himself. None looked half as good as Horatio. "You are beautiful" said his smiling reflection.

Horatio laughed with delight, "you really think so?"

"Yes, of course I do. You made a good decision to leave those drab courtesans of Amosa" said the handsome reflection.

Horatio tittered happily, "I am so happy to hear you say that!"

"I'm sorry I ever doubted you."

Horation set the mirror down on the desk, turning around in his swivel chair gleefully to view the large terrace behind him. The balcony gave way to huge expanse of dry arid land, the White sun was beginning to set, sending crimson fingers across the sky, kissing the purple clouds.

Horatio walked out on the terrace where a strategist board lay neglected, its beautifully carved pieces seemed to scream for attention. Horatio's happy face dissolved into sadness as he remembered when one of his children defeated him at the game last year. He had been so enraged that he threw his child from the balcony and never played the game again. A pity, the board was a gift from Emperor Maxamillion. Though now sweet Maxy would sooner have his head off than give him a gift, and Horatio did miss sharp Ilos. He was never one to control his temper, and if Ilos was so sharp, he should have let him win. He should have known better.

Horatio pushed the thought from his mind and his smile returned as he surveyed the red canyons that stretched out before him. Stretched across the sky, in low orbit was an immense ship. Smaller ships zipped to and fro, preparing the vessel for its journey. Further out, beyond the hot, dry atmosphere of Horatio's home planet, which was called Horatio, of course, were many more ships. But none were as grand as the one before him now. Pride swelled in Horatio as he watched his busy bee's scramble to do his bidding. A few more days and his new ship would be ready to depart, and him along with it. His face grew sad once again thinking of having to say good-bye to his home but it had to be done.

Where the last age belonged to the United Empire and to the Zelevas dynasty, now belonged to Horatio and his children. Horatio and his great fleet would create an new galactic order with himself at its head. All people's would bow down before his great beauty and magnificence. Horatio beamed happily again as he thought of coming into his power.

There was a chime as one of his children entered his solar.

"Ah! Dinner." said Horatio clapping his hands excitedly as he briskly returned inside.

"Greetings your beautifulness" said his child, "dinner is served." His servant set a plate of food down on the marble desk. The smell of the meat filled the office. A delicacy courtesy of one of the seized Imperial freighters. Steamed Amoebas. Delicious.

Horatio put his hand on his child's face, admiring his work. "You are beautiful."

"Thank you, your excellency. I take after my father."

Horatio laughed happily. "Wait for me at my bedchamber." Steamed Amoebas was a potent aphrodisiac as well as a fine dish.

His child bowed and made his exit. Horatio sat behind his desk, sighing with pleasure at each bite of his dinner. He prompted a holo on his desk to show what would be his new home. A lush green world, two continents separated by a great ocean. No doubt it would be muggy and unbearable. Damp air was bad for the pours and Horatio could not abide bad skin. Typing commands the holo shifted to the moon revealing a structure on its surface. The real prize. Horatio would tolerate a muggy climate and clammy skin for the secrets he would learn from this system's moon.

Horatio popped some meat into his mouth and chewed happily,  
"Xenophros," he smiled.


	4. The Chained Chancellor

**The Chained Chancellor**

* * *

Heres Adrift sprinted across the barren wastes, under a burnt yellow sky. His muscles ache sweetly, his will urging him forward, four tentacles protrude from his back, keeping balance as his limbs propel him across the waste. Grey dirt and stone crunches under his claws.

Adrift leaps across a chasm twelve feet wide, loose stones fall noisily into darkness. He stops and turns watching his younger brothers trying to keep up. The yearlings have little resemblance to full grown cravers. They scurry across the ground on eight legs. Weak and defenceless except for a hard shell on their backs and sharp mandibles protruding from their mouths. In several cycles their four middle legs will shed and tentacles will protrude from their backs. They will grow strong and begin to walk upright and become soldiers of the Hive.

The yearlings finally reach the chasm, the leader jumps without hesitation, and the others follow. Adrift will make soliders of them yet. It is a great honour to raise yearling to true cravers, and Adrift relishes the task.  
He continues to run, spitting a cloud of pheromones into the air, urging the young ones along. Adrift vaults over a great boulder as large as him and over a ridge, he stretches out his tentacles to break his fall, and raises himself up into the air. It has begun to rain, and he clucks his mandibles happily and drinks the drops, savouring their acidic tinge.

The yearlings catch up to him and crash their mandibles together noisily as he drinks. He has never felt so alive. He has never felt so free. A shadow passes over him. A feeling of dark dread and foreboding. In the distance a massive ship tears through the sky, then another. And another. Soon the sky is filled with them. They reign fire down on the land. The yearlings shriek as they are consumed. His mother cries out from the hive, in horrible pain. Heres Adrift joins his voice to hers.

He wakes covered in slime. His mucus membrane had burst in his sleep. A common occurrence amongst cravers under stress. A defence mechanism from the last age, before they had climbed to the top of the food chain in their home world and spread out across the galaxy.

Adrift wants nothing more to be back in the dream, his only place of freedom away from the Watcher. Nearly every waking moment, Adrift can feel the Watcher deep inside him, controlling him, seeing through his eye. The Watcher was apart of him. The Watcher was him.

"11:08..." said the Watcher from within, "and it was that the Concretes fell from God's favour. They were cast down and purged from the universe and so He raised up new servants. And ye who would serve faithfully, I shall give unto you endless riches and abundance for commerce and ask of you that you only obey. Obey!"

Adrift's head began to split in a pounding headache. He clucks his mandibles and shrieked as his claws clasp around his head, trying to shut out the pain.

"Obey!"

As quick as the pain came, it leaves. Heres took stock of his surroundings. He was in the Watchers ship. The cargo hold was his den. Bones lay strewn across the floor. He begins to place his armour on, plate after plate, trying to remember the last time he was without Him.

It was on Sirius. He was inside the Terran hive. The meat lay broken in the corner, dying loudly. The Watcher did not have what he came for. The broken meat had displeased him, but the virus stored in his armour seemed to give Watcher some hope after it was uploaded into the machines.

"This facility must be purged, my pet," said the Watcher, "Go, hunt and feed." The Watcher left him. Broken meat was finally dead meat. More meat came, shrieked and fled but Heres would not give chase. He slumped down in the room and just sat. For days he sat there, starving and growing weak but at least he was free of him.

Finally the Watcher joined him again with a great fury. "11:08," he boomed "Obey!" His mandibles crashed together as he shrieked, his membrane sprayed forth with mucus. He rose to his feet and left the chamber of broken dead meat.  
For the next four turns, Heres stalked the terran hive. In the great chamber where their ships were docked he found many meats, trying to break open the doors to reach their ships. He crashed through the room, his claws thrashed them apart, his tentacles choked and threw, his mandables devoured the meat. Some had ran, and failed. Some had fought and died. In the last few days the few that were left huddled together and hid from him, but he could smell the meat, especially when afraid. He had his fill and he was strong again, and the Watcher had been pleased.

Now in the cargo hold of the Watcher's ship, his den, Heres prepared for his new task. The admantium mask hissed as it closed over his face. The ship shook violently. Tentacles braced the floor and ceiling, keeping him steady. With a resounding thud the ship was still.

"Obey."

The far wall to the den slides open and sunlight pours in. Heres Adrift with the Watcher steps out onto green grass and a clear blue sky overhead. Great trees were all around, reaching kilometres up into the clouds. Feathered meat were watching him from above. They cluck loudly and fly from branch to branch. Some glide down and hop along the ground to get a closer look. The poor feathered meats. They will be just like him, though they do not know it.


	5. The Silver Paladin

**The Silver Paladin**

* * *

Therna Ubantri was lying on a sofa in her quarters. Her fleet had set out a month ago from Xenophros. Although she wanted to stay and continue to search for Gero, she had more pressing concerns. Gero was still alive. She could feel it, and Therna always trusted her intuition.

She had been praying in the Esthetes temple found in the ruins on Xenophros when Ziecheal came to her. Her eyes had burned with tears when he had told her that he was calling off the search for Gero Kartal. He handed her a dossier containing a new cache from her informant. The Empire was nearing completion of a Dreadnought battleship. Ziecheal charged her with leading a fleet to destroy it before it could be finished.  
She found herself feeling sad for Duke Aarold Au Brian, her contact within the Empire. She had never met the man, nor had she ever spoke to him, other than brief curt messages. Yet she felt as if she knew him well. His daughter was captured in a slave revolt, and rather than negotiate her release, the Empire bombed the colony to rubble. Publicly they announced that the colony was destroyed in a Hyperium explosion due to incompetent slaves. A horrible accident which was used as a pretext for increased police powers in outer rim colonies in the interest of 'safety'. Jeanie Au Brian's death was paraded all over the wire as a PR campaign to push the new bill through the Imperial Court. All Pilgrims had similar stories. Horrible atrocities that led them to revolt against the Empire.

Therna reached for a tablet on the table in front of the sofa. Pushing a few commands, a holo projects over the tablet. The schematics of the dreadnought she was sent to destroy. She cannot fail. The Errant Fleet is still in the process of settling Xenophros. It will be another year before they can begin constructing new ships of there own.

A tone signals over her intercom. "We are approaching the asteroid field now, Ma'am. ETA ten minutes," said a voice.

Therna put down the tablet and made for the Combat Information Center. The CIC was busy with officers prepping for the battle ahead, ensuring all their systems were ready for the task that lay before them.

"All systems green, admiral," said Paladin Rickards, her second in command. A bright young man and former captain of the Imperial Ministry of Security.  
Therna stood around the tactical map with her officers, surveying the asteroid field. A strange place to build a ship but it was the last place one would look. A holo whirred over the tactical map, displaying the ship and a small security fleet forming up between them and the dreadnought.

"They know we're here," announced Rickards.

Her fleet consisted of eight destroyers, three cruisers, and her flagship, _The Objective Monk_, a battleship. Five enemy destroyers blocked their path.

"Comms open to the fleet, Admiral. Awaiting your orders." said Rickards

"Captains, commence a barrage of Positron Torpedos," she ordered.

Therna's fleet was in a standard V formation. Her small destroyers in front, their strong frontal lepton shielding and deflectors able to protect her larger ships as they delivered their payloads. As they took damage they would fall back and her larger ships would take the lead, turning to a reverse V formation. _The Objective Monk_took up its position in the rear, the cruisers in front.

Torpedo tubes opened and the fleet fired its missles in unison. Two tubes to each destoyer, four to each cruiser and eight for her battleship. As the barrage neared the enemy fleet an alarm sounded.

"We have enemy signatures hidden in the asteroids!" Exclaimed Rickards.

Two fleets emerged on either side of them. She recognized these ships. "The Hissho," she said in loathing. "So the proud birds have allied with the proud men." As the decimated Imperial Fleet burned, the two Hissho fleets closed in. Each enemy fleet had eight destroyers and a cruiser.

Therna's eyes began to glow. Her officers took heart as they watched the dust in her eyes emit its comforting glow. Her mouth opened, the light shining past her lips. "The Endless are with us" she announced to her fleet, in a deep resonate voice, the voice of the gods her crewman had dubbed it. The voice that came over her when the dust took over.

In her blood stream, golden particles started to ignite with electricity. Dust, under the influence of the powerful few who could wield it, gave unto its users a god-like quality. They became stronger, faster and capable of manipulating matter around them in powerful ways. They are know as the Influent.

Above her fleets position, more ships materialized. A mirror image of her own fleet, but the Hissho could not see past the illusion. To the enemy, it seemed that a second Pilgrim fleet deactivated camouflage to join the battle. The fire from the Hissho were diverted to the mirror fleet. Therna used the opportunity to split her forces. Three destroyers and the three cruisers would take the left flank, the senior captain of the cruiser, _The Repentance_, taking control of the fleet. The Objective Monk and the other five destroyers took the right.

Her fleets divided in two, they engaged the war-birds. The Hissho, realizing the deception, reset their targets. The fleets clashed in hellfire. A Hissho destroyer, its power failed, crashed listlessly into another of their cruisers. They both exploded in a flashing burst.

One of her cruisers took heavy damage, nano-bots unable to repair the damage. The captains panicked cries rang in her ears. She ordered her fleet to form a protective ring around the ship as they commenced rescue operations. The ship blew, its drive core gave way to a powerful blue shockwave as they gathered the remaining life pods.

Therna's eyes still glowed with a magnificent gold light. Every crewman in the fleet could feel the dusts powerful influence. Their reactions were quicker, their instincts sharper. Another Hissho destroyer blew in a great fireball.  
The second Pilgrim fleet was faring well. They had destroyed two destroyers and were concentrating efforts on the enemy cruiser. A torpedo smashed into the Hissho cruiser's drive core. A brilliant flash and the ship was careening out of control. Surprisingly, the ship regained control and steered toward _The Repentance_. The crash was devastating and the two ships were obliterated. The remaining ships of the second fleet volleyed torpedoes on the enemy that three of the Hissho ships succumbed to.  
Meanwhile, in Therna's fleet, The Objective Monk claimed another destroyer to the cheers of the crew on the bridge.

"Fried chicken!" exclaimed one excited junior officer.

Rickards sighed with relief over the tactical map. "The enemy is in full retreat." The holo of the battle area corroborated his statement. The remaining Hissho ships were making full tilt away from the asteroid field. "Shall we give chase, Admiral?"  
The glow receded. Her voice returned. "No, all ships form up. Eagle formation. Concentrate all fire on the Dreadnought on my command." The two fleets converged into two semi circles around the front of the Dreadnought with _The Objective Monk_in the middle.

An alarm sounded.

"Admiral," said Rickards, "enemy reinforcments have warped in. Imperial ships. Ten destroyers, five cruisers. They….. They are holding position at the edge of the asteroid field with the remaining Hissho."

Therna watched the holo. "They are forming a wall, keeping us from escaping. But why would they not move in? Unless…"

There was a flash of light. The main cannon on the supposed derelict Dreadnought discharged a blinding beam of energy into the Eagle formed fleet. A cruiser erupted into fire, a wreckage of debris and death exploded out from the shockwave.  
Therna now had three options. Firstly, she could order a retreat through the asteroid field, which would mean certain death. Secondly, she could force a retreat through the blockade, which would mean certain death. Lastly, she could stay and concentrate fire on the Dreadnought and if the Endless will it, she finishes what she set out to do…. And certainly come to a horrible death. The choice seemed clear.

"All ships, concentrate fire on that Dreadnought. Move in close, try and get behind it. With any luck its motor functions are not online."

The guns on the Imperial dreadnought lit up the Pilgrim fleet. Deflectors and shields failed against it's awesome firepower. One by one her ships blew apart to the lament of screams roaring over the comm's. Therna closed the channel. Only _The Objective Monk _remained. She was right beside the dreadnought, five seconds away from lining up a shot on the drive core… three seconds. Just a little further.

A blinding flash of light pulsed from the monstrous ship. Their systems went dead. The bridge was dark. Emergency lighting went online. Electro magnetic pulse. The panicked reports of her officers said it all. They were defeated. Engines unresponsive, weapon systems offline, comms dead.

"Can I still get a cup of coffee?" Asked Therna. No one laughed.

For an excruciating long minute, their systems had been without power. The CIC was deathly silent. The backup batteries, seperate from the main power grid, should have kicked on by now.

"What's the status on the backup systems?" Asked Therna.

"The EMP knocked out our batteries Ma'am" said a junior officer. "It will be another minute for them to recharge"

This was a new kind of weapon of the like that Therna had never seen before. Nothing on the schematics indicated advanced EMP technology. This was all a set up. A trap within a trap. Therna feared for the fate of Aaorld Au Brian.

Finally the back up batteries came online. The the tactical map whirred to life.

"Report!" Shouted Therna

"Weapons still offline, Admiral," said an officer

"Engines are dead, ma'am," said another

"Ship Comms are back up," said one "...Ma'am, you should hear this." The officer patched the ship channel to the intercom.

A panicked voice sounded throughout the CIC.  
"..Repeat, we are under attack! Bording parties have landed in the main cargo bay! We need help! Somebody please respond!"

"Paladin Rickards the ship is yours," said Therna, trying her best to conceal the worry from her face. "Have a combat team prepped and ready in the armory. I shall meet them there and move in to repel borders."

Rickards protested. "But we need you here, ma'am."

"No, my command of the dust will be needed to repel borders. Do what you can here, try and reroute power to weapons and give that dreadnought hell."

"Yes Admiral... its... its been an honour, Ma'am"

"Save your goodbyes, Paladin, for we shall meet again, when all is dust."

Therna ran for the armory, gathering up scattered crewman from their prayers. "The time is now for death and glory, not prayer" she told them, her eyes afire.

Over the ship comms, Rickard gave his orders. "All hands, enemy troops have landed in the cargo hold. Combat teams prepare to repel borders!"

At the armory a combat team was waiting for her. They wore dark blue helmets, their visors glowing dimly with their HUD displays, their mouths and chins exposed, grim set and determined. Kinetic rifles were strapped across their backs, blue flack vests covered their chests. When Therna and the others were all suited up they made for the cargo deck.

The caro hold was a vast room with high ceilings. Crates of supplies were stacked here and there. The enemy had taken the hold and were in the process of taking the adjoining shuttle bay. Pilgrim fire teams were already inside, pockets of them offering resistance, dug in behind crates. The floors of the bay were littered with dead and dying among fire and choas.

As therna and her team entered there was an explosion. Two men who had previously been firing behind a crate were thrown in the air, crashing down lifelessly.

Immediatly Therna seen the problem. On the far side of the room, a large enemy officer clad all in black and red armour, his helm fashioned in the shape of a skull, barked commands to his troops. On his shoulder was a smoking missle launcher, he tossed it to a solider beside him for reloding. The Imperial shock troops advanced fearlessly. The pilgrim kinetic rifles having almost no effect on their shields. They seemed to had an armor upgrade since she last faced them in battle.

Therna's eyes glowed, she waved her hand with a resonate scream and the shields on the enemy's armor failed. Her fire team picked them off, and now it was their turn to advance.

With a curse, the enemy commander fell back into the cargo bay to join with reinforcments. Under the cover of smoke grenades, Therna's forces took up fire positions against the enemy company. They could feel the influence of dust on their actions. Their aim was tighter, they were able to anticipate enemy movements, and evade from danger faster. They were still taking casuaties though. At the far end of the fire line the yells of anguish could be heard as a trooper took a beam through his chest. The solider beside Therna took a shell through his eye, and others where rolling on the floor wounded and in agony.  
After pressing their fire the enemy began to retreat, until the commander boomed "Hold your ground, cowards!"

Therna sprang from the fire line, dodged enemy fire and rolled behind a crate. She peeked over the top and could see the commander, with a fresh missle tube in his arms pointed directly at her. She felt him smile under his helmet.

The missle exploded out of the tube, bearing down on her. Dust shot from her fingertips like a golden lightning bolt. Dust particles infiltrated the rocket, frying its electrical and trigger systems. It fell harmlessly from the air at her feet. She could almost see the look of dismay on the commanders face before his chest exploded into red mist courtesy of her companions on the fire line.

The remaining enemy troops fled back through the caro bay doors to the bording shuttle from which they came. Therna moved to an electrical box by the doors to route power to the blast doors and seal them out for good. Out of the corner of her eye she could see tentacles sliding through the bay doorway. Her ears popped, the floor went out from under her. The world seemed to be upside down. The floor found her again in a sickly crunch of broken bones.

The last thing she saw was a single red eye looming over her.

Her mother had once said that monsters were not real. She was wrong.


End file.
